


Disinhibition

by Predatrix



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Frottage, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Oral Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:16:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4871371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Predatrix/pseuds/Predatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A kinkmeme fill for the prompt: "Norrell wants to have physical relations with his servant without having to talk about it. So he casts a spell for Childermass to lose all inhibitions--without realising there are non-sexy inhibitors and Childermass will just get bloody furious. Then he realises he's unexpectedly incredibly turned-on."</p><p>Various pervs on the kinkmeme were trying to think of how this start could lead to Happy Fun Sex Times. </p><p>The reason this is any good is thanks to Lempo Soi, who reminded me that Happy Fun Sex Times would certainly not be in the immediate vicinity of this idea, because Childermass would be so angry. So I had to think of how to sort it out without bloodshed (and how one might negotiate the sex after something like that). </p><p>It also has a touch of another prompt--"So what happened when Norrell told the Duke of Devonshire off for talking over Childermass?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disinhibition

It was all Norrell's fault. Of course it was. 

A coward in the face of anything, particularly his own desires, he was determined not to so much as mention how he felt about Childermass. How the sight of Childermass leaning on walls made him think how wonderfully louche and dirty and not-like-him the man was. How that low voice thrummed through him, and (when he was in the mood) went straight to his balls and filled him with the desire to hear it right in his ear in bed, saying wicked things. How stolen glimpses of how muscular he was made Norrell think of being vigorously handled, held in strong arms, feeling warm thighs and a big prick rub against him. 

So of course he did nothing, and of course the issue did not go away. And of course, when he failed to unpack his heart with words, magic was there to fill the gap. 

Which explained why he was to be found a while later, stealthily casting a lose-all-inhibitions spell on Childermass in the evening, when Childermass had brought a book to his bedroom. After all, it wasn't _so_ wicked, was it? If the man had no such response to him, he'd simply wander away without noticing. It was only if he...wanted, too, that he would speak. 

It wasn't the first time he hadn't controlled for the right variables. He simply hadn't thought about all the other inhibitors that weren't of an erotic nature...nor, being himself, was he quite aware that he seemed to _irritate_ people so much. 

Childermass usually seemed to be quite accustomed to thinking before he spoke, and considering both his situation (which Norrell thought he by-and-large liked) and Norrell (Norrell thought he by-and-large liked _him,_ maybe, although he was very doubtful and couldn't figure out why, if so). 

But now things were different. 

Norrell's first real intimation of this was Childermass turning the air blue with the sort of swearing he would, he supposed, have assumed Childermass knew but would never have thought Childermass would use in front of him. Still less _at him._ "Bloody buggering useless fucking fuck!" was only the start of it. His attention (not being able to turn on a sixpence) was still caught up in wondering when they'd get round to the _actual_ fucking, and was only slowly coming up to "oh, hell, how do I get out of this one?" by the time Childermass drew a breath and wound down with the invective. 

"What crossed what passes for your mind... _sir,"_ said Childermass in cold, furious rage, "to think casting that sort of spell might possibly be a good idea?" 

_He knows!_ thought Norrell, in horror. He wondered if he should have cast for "subject is unaware" before running full-tilt into the awareness that no, this was why it was morally-wrong, and if he _had_ done so, Childermass would have put two and two together later, and still realised the truth and been angry. How had he not realised that even if he'd got what he wanted, Childermass would know he'd done something, and there would be a reckoning!

There would be now. Childermass looked magnificent in a fury: strong, dangerous... _uncontrollable._ Which left Norrell with an equally-horrified realisation that the truth had done nothing whatsoever to shrivel his state of erotic tension. The very _last_ thing it was safe to do was shew quite how much it was affecting him. Childermass would think he had engineered the situation to enjoy it, and while that was of course true, he wasn't such a fool as to want to do it when it wasn't safe...well _most_ of him wasn't. Oh god, he was getting hard, wasn't he?

He marshalled his sternest mental voice to snap _Damn you, sir! Down!_ at his inconvenient anatomy, which...had no effect whatsoever. Evidently it was true: a standing prick really _did_ have no conscience. 

Childermass slapped him in the face--and Norrell could tell it wasn't with his full force, but it was still hard enough to knock his head back for a moment, and sting. He knew his cheek would be reddened, and his eyes wide with fear. It didn't take his mind off the desire, and nor did it when Childermass grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and...shook him. He wanted more, and in a long and cautious life he'd never even _considered_ this.

Even at school, where most of the boys had felt the rough of someone's hand and whatever instruments the masters used, he had used the first magic book he had for a spell to make himself...unnoticeable. It probably wouldn't have worked for a boy who wanted to make himself noticed in any way, or for a boy who was more attractive or less determined. He'd faded into the background, at school and since, and when he finally let the spell drop it was almost still there out of habit. Nobody had touched him, for good or ill. So he'd spent his life ruled by fear, and now he was considering letting blows fall on him, and liking it. 

It was only a brief, overheard and sniggering conversation he remembered from his schooldays that gave him the least idea people might like such a thing. That was the other way round--a couple of the schoolmasters liked giving beatings rather too much. He had never even heard of the _victim_ liking it, and if it weren't for the rather determined evidence in his mind (and balls, and prick) he wouldn't be thinking of it now. It wasn't even that he wasn't scared; he was scared, and horrified by his own perversity, and had no rational intention of doing anything about it. 

He didn't know what he wanted Childermass to _do,_ and that was terrifying in itself. He'd often thought about becoming...close to Childermass, and in his least ambitious daydreams he'd merely thought about holding and maybe kissing him. For the rest of it, he knew enough about physical pleasure to know that if Childermass had offered to...touch him, maybe to suck or fuck him, he would likely have enjoyed himself thoroughly, and maybe never have realised this other matter. But such an idea was definitively off the table, and now he wanted something else. He didn't know what it was, but when Childermass manhandled him it made his prick sit up and beg like a dog for a bone. For the first time in his life, he wished he had long hair, because the thought of having it pulled was exciting. 

They were both breathing hard. Childermass dragged him up, to glare--a little wildly--into his face. Suddenly he thought of Childermass spitting in his face--or biting him--and had to screw his eyes tight shut because he thought Childermass might read _want_ in his face. 

He thought momentarily of those masters at school, and had a brief moment of relief, because whatever he wanted it was _not that:_ whips or canes or such would seem frighteningly distant, would give him time to dread the blow falling. He might want violence, but...strangely intimately. He wanted to feel Childermass's strength, perhaps even to feel that he himself _mattered,_ even in this incomprehensible way. 

"Against my will--no, that's not it, you didn't even _think_ of asking me what I chose." He shook Norrell again, looming over him, frighteningly close. Norrell still wanted him, and was afraid there was nothing Childermass could do that would make him _stop_ wanting. It still frightened the life out of him, and Norrell realised that if Childermass knew how excited he was, he wouldn't realise how _scared_ he was. 

"You might have had my attention, if you'd ever bothered to ask! We'll never know now. You ruined this--yes, _you_ \--by messing around with spells sooner than treat me as a man with my opinion to ask on the matter."

Again, Childermass reached to shake him, but even rougher this time, that hand between neck and shoulder. 

It was going to _bruise_ him. His prick swelled in his small-clothes, and it wouldn't take much to make him spend, like this, and no matter how good it would feel there was nothing he wanted less. Because it would be the final betrayal, for Childermass, the final confirmation that Norrell only cared for his own wants, no matter how unhappy they made somebody else. Childermass would not only leave, but he would leave feeling used and angry, and his last memory of Norrell would be of Norrell caring precisely nothing for anything but his own pleasure. Which was not the case. He'd do _anything_ not to feel like this.

Then, just to make things worse, Childermass noticed the...the state he was in, and looked even angrier.

Of course Norrell reached for the spell--if only he could take it back, take it down, there might be a breathing-space; and of course, under stress and without his beloved books, he fumbled it. He thought nothing had happened, and then he felt tears streaming silently down his own face, and realised he had merely extended it. Now _he_ had lost all inhibition. 

"I--I didn't know! I'd have done anything sooner than hurt you! And now I'm afraid--I'm _terrified,_ because I still want to...I don't know _what_ I want...and it's all _ruined,_ and I never even knew, never even knew there _was_ such a thing!"

Childermass sighed, and looked like _Childermass_ again, and that dear familiar expression made him almost choke with sobs of relief. 

"Don't talk so fast, give me a chance to hear you, and don't make yourself ill," said Childermass firmly.

Norrell scrubbed at his face and tried to choke the tears down, mastering himself with an effort. 

"I thought," he said wretchedly, "I thought if you...wanted me, it would make you speak. So I wouldn't have to. I was sure if you didn't there wouldn't be any effect."

"Happen you got _that_ wrong," said Childermass, very dryly. 

Norrell nodded. "I'm sorry."

"You're an idiot."

Norrell nodded again. 

"I may be a bit less angry, but I'm still not going to bed you."

"Yes, Childermass, I believe I took that point some time ago!"

Childermass rolled his eyes. "At least you can learn."

"I will try to."

"What did you never know?" Childermass asked curiously, "If you were trying to get me into bed--the stupid way--you must have had some idea what you were about."

Norrell sighed, and--face hot with shame--tried a rather mumbled explanation of the...the thing. That had happened. 

"Properly," said Childermass. "In words. Because I don't quite see what you're getting at."

Norrell glared at him. "I wanted you to hurt me and I didn't even know there was such a thing! I didn't even know what I wanted you to do, or where it would end. There was a point, when you were...handling me, when I thought I was going to spend, and I thought you'd never forgive me, because you would think all I cared for was selfish pleasure." In a lower tone. "I was so _afraid,_ and I was sure you wouldn't even realise I was afraid. So I tried to take the spell off, and only got it landing on me." 

"Just as well to clear the air," Childermass said practically. "If I hadn't realised you'd just got yourself into a silly mess, again, I'm not sure what I'd have done.

"Probably left," said Norrell, quietly.

"I doubt I'd have actually done it, but I wouldn't have minded storming off in a huff. And no doubt you'd have made yourself sick with worry. Now, I think the most sensible thing to do is have a rest from each other for a bit--no, I'm not leaving. I am going to the tavern, to settle down with a pipe and a quiet pint, and if I were you I'd take care of that..." he nodded at Norrell's erection, "...and go to sleep."

"But I don't deserve to!" Norrell said, surprised. "I'd better wait for it to go down."

Childermass sighed, pointedly. "So it's not that you don't have morals, it's just that they're odd."

"I tried to get something you weren't willing to give," Norrell explained, "so I don't deserve to gratify the desire."

"You're not allowed to influence me against my own will. Where in that did I tell you you couldn't have the use of your own hand?"

"That's not helping," 

"Only if you think the object of the exercise is to make your prick subject to conscious control," said Childermass. "I want to see you comfortable when I come back, not trying to work yourself into a fit of nerves until you have blue balls, a headache, and can't sleep all night. Because that would be stupid. And who would have to deal with your rotten mood for the next few days? Yes. Me again!"

Childermass turned his back and went to the door, and by the time the door shut Norrell undid his breeches. He took some salve from the bedside table, just in case he was a little over-sensitive by now, and treated himself to one finger sliding up his arse while his lubricated left fist squeezed his aching prick. It felt glorious--and just this once he wasn't thinking about Childermass, but about how wonderful it felt to be safe, on his own, getting comfortable, blissfully ready to spend, just one more lovely, lovely stroke, coming, _ahhh..._ mm, that _had_ been a good one! His problems could come back tomorrow--they always did. He had just enough practicality to clean up. 

Late that night, Childermass came in to check on him, and he mumbled something and went back to sleep. 

 

Childermass came to speak to him on Thursday evening. "About that matter a few days ago."

Norrell felt worried. "I know you won't, and I thought you'd forgiven me. Mostly."

"Yes. Well, I've given the matter some thought, and I might actually be prepared to give you some attention. Within reason, only when mutually-convenient, and never when I'm angry or you're being a bit of a brat. And remember, you don't get to deserve me as a right. You have the right to ask, and I have the right to say no. That's for it in the ordinary way. If you want me to be rough with you, you'd better have said or done something to make me pleased with you."

"Wouldn't it be more fun if you were just a _little bit_ angry?" asked Norrell rather wistfully. 

"No," said Childermass firmly. "If we know it's a game, that's one thing. Things are _not_ going to go well if you treat playing-up and being naughty as a way to manipulate me, because if you try I'm really going to be annoyed at least some of the time and _that isn't fun,_ is it, sir?"

"No? No, I suppose not. I think you've taught me my lesson, although I'm surprised you changed your mind. And I'm...a little afraid."

"When I was in my right mind--and the other week was your fault--I have never done a single thing to scare you, not knowingly," said Childermass. 

"Not of you!" explained Norrell. "I'm afraid of...the thing. I couldn't even tell what I wanted you to do to me, or where it would end. What if it only worked when it was real?"

"Was I aroused when it was real?" demanded Childermass. 

Norrell shook his head. 

"I never thought to lay a hand on you but that you want me to. That's why I even considered it--somebody so proper, so nervous, but you burn for me. You thought I'd half-kill you for it, when I was so angry, and it _still_ didn't put you off."

Norrell nodded solemnly. 

"Well, that certainly didn't excite me while I was in a rage, or just trying to come down from it, but later I found my mind wandering to it. So all this is, is if you want, you may ask. You don't get to demand me as a right, the whole idea is void if you try to play me again," he added sternly, "but you may ask."

"What would you say yes to?"

"I'm tempted to say, you only find out if you ask, but it's a fair question. I won't damage you--this should be for pleasure if we do it at all--and I won't whip you, because I...don't have any kindly memories of whips."

Norrell said, "I don't...I wouldn't...just your hands," he whispered, wondering whether that was unreasonable. 

"I could certainly smack your arse--some might say you're well overdue!"

Norrell didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The slight gasp, the blush, and the fairly noticeable cock-stand probably spoke for him. "What if I don't want that?" he argued contrarily.

Childermass gave him one of his grins. "Trying to pretend?"

Norrell said, "Well, _obviously_ I want to _now."_ He paused. "But I've only wanted that since the other day when you were angry." His eyes went wide with nervousness. "Oh _blast_ \--does that mean I've _gone_ like it?"

Childermass said reasonably, "If you want to ask for something else--a suck, or a fuck, or just a nice cuddle-and-a-rub if you're tired--you can ask for that, too."

Norrell half-laughed, half-groaned. "That answers that question. I like the peaceful side, too. Which is a relief." He was glad he didn't have to hide how hard he was getting--his cock was at attention and positively drooling at the thought. 

"Want a bit now, do you?"

"Is it all right?" Norrell gave him a wary 'do you mean that?' glance, and concluded that Childermass evidently did like watching him be completely shameless, judging by the distinct stirring in his breeches. It would take him a few minutes to get as far along as Norrell was just thinking of it, but...

Norrell said, shakily, "Can I...touch you?"

Childermass nodded. 

Norrell doubted he was particularly good at this, but he enjoyed fondling and teasing and playing. Childermass was getting harder, much harder. 

"Want to get in your lap and rub on you while you finger my arse!" he demanded, and Childermass said, "We'll want our clothes out of the way for that."

Norrell whined. 

Childermass said, "You're a spoilt brat, aren't you?"

Norrell nodded. 

"All right then, you stand still and I'll undress us." Childermass got up and unceremoniously untied and shoved down his breeches and small-clothes. Then he did the same for Norrell, and sat down. "Come on, then."

Norrell clumsily sort-of fell on him. "Please, let me... _need_ to..." Cock-against-cock, and groaning. Oh, that was good!

Childermass pulled him properly into place, which felt even better, sucked a long finger and teased it round his hole, tried to slip it in...and it was sore, with nothing but spit, and he wasn't quite relaxed because he was suddenly remembering that Childermass wasn't good at looking after his nails.

"What's the matter--eyes bigger than your arsehole?"

"Sorry, it's just--when I do it I use...slippery stuff." He was sure that he was bright red. "And I can't help worrying about the state of your nails. I mean--not that I'm not grateful!"

Childermass pushed him to his feet. "Stand up a minute." Then he muttered "The things I do for you!" as he went through his pockets. He came up with a neat little pocket-knife and a small pot of something, and started trimming his nails deftly. 

"Not horse-liniment, please," said Norrell. "Nor...saddle-grease." He was not entirely sure what people used on the outsides of saddles, but he didn't think it would be good for the insides of people.

Childermass rolled his eyes. "No, sir. Strangely enough I wasn't thinking of using those. The ointment I use on my hands when they crack in the winter."

"Oh, yes please!" exclaimed Norrell in relief.

Childermass had them both back in position a few minutes later, rubbing and rubbing their eager cocks, and this time that finger, long and sure, slid right in. 

Norrell sighed happily. 

"That's it, is it?" Childermass sounded pardonably smug. The finger slid in-and-out, in-and-out, rubbing where he liked it best. 

"Just right!" gasped Norrell, poised between the stimulation in front and behind as he finally-- _finally!_ \--began to come--groaning shamelessly with every spurt. Still going, and still going, almost painfully good, and somewhere in the middle of it Childermass was coming, too.

After some minutes, Norrell said. "Thank you." Slightly worried, he added, "I don't mean, as a duty--as service--". He fell silent, hoping not to make things worse. 

Childermass looked at him, then gave one of his deep chuckles. "I doubt I'd mistake _that_ for anything that wasn't mutual. Although I'd be glad of a hanky, if you've got one."

Norrell--whose tendency to take cold at random moments led to his always knowing where to find a handkerchief--passed it to Childermass and permitted him to besmirch it with the mess in their laps, then cast it aside. He didn't even complain at that. Instead, he said, "Do I get you to hold me? Or does that count as another thing to ask for?"

"Come on, then," Childermass said, again, "and _shut up."_

Norrell did, taking care not to make them touch each other's sensitive bits. He almost felt ever-so-slightly smug at having negotiated his first sexual act (with another person), but he had to admit Childermass had done the work. He did his share of the cuddling, though; a nice warm snuggle once he'd been so very thoroughly sated was just what he liked, because they were both happy, both safe and warm. 

 

Two weeks later, the Duke of Devonshire came to dinner, chancing to be in the area, and having Hurtfew recommended to him by his father, who had memories of Norrell's over-social uncle. Which just went to show what a world of trouble one was in for as soon as one started on all that. If it hadn't been for his uncle's addiction to far too many noisy people around at once, Norrell could be around congenial people who didn't talk too much (by which he meant Childermass). 

This was considerably irritating to Norrell. Visitors--especially ones who stayed for meals--threw him all out. Not wanting to get his books dirty, he was accustomed to reading his own notes over dinner, which gave him a good chance to review his day's work, and he was accustomed to eating according to his own odd tastes, without having to worry whether someone would look at him askance on days when he had indigestion and he could only manage a little boiled chicken breast or sweet gruel rather than the average rich foods people served at this sort of dinner. 

Also, the Duke was over-fond of the sound of his own voice, not in a way comfortable to Norrell, like a fascination with an interesting subject, like magic, but simply, Norrell thought, because he believed he was a person of great consequence. 

The Duke said something with an apparent factual error--he seemed to have relatively little knowledge of the way of things in the North--and compounded this by stating that what the North needed was a good set of thief-takers and powerful men to deal with the machine-breaking rabble filling the North. It was not to be expected that Childermass would take that lying down. 

"Anyone with the least idea of the subject, sir, is aware of the gross mismanagement of affairs by politicians and mill-owners. The people of the North--"

The Duke of Devonshire raised his voice and spoke right over Childermass. 

Norrell waited for him to stop speaking (a courtesy the Duke had not extended to Childermass) and said, "You do not have the right, sir, to speak over well-informed citizens of the county as though Southern politics gives you knowledge of it. If you listened to Childermass, you might learn something."

"The man is your servant, sir!" said the Duke indignantly. "It is his place to listen, not to speak--if he should even attend the conversations of gentlemen."

"It is his place to speak if he has information to impart," said Norrell firmly. "Sometimes he knows more about a subject than I do--and a wise master makes use of what his servants know if they are intelligent. A man of parts, who has lived in the region all his life, certainly knows more than you do, visiting it today."

The Duke said he had never been so insulted in his life, and were it not for his age, and Mr Norrell's age, he would feel tempted to call him out.

Mr Norrell said, "I fear I cannot answer for Childermass's tongue should he find himself better-informed. By all means, sir, if you find this house uncongenial, please do remove in search of better company."

The Duke d--ned Childermass's eyes, d--ned the entire household for a hotbed of radicals, and d--ned Norrell for a weak, spineless traitor to his birth. Then he stormed out. 

Norrell was shaking a little--he did so hate a scene, even if he'd precipitated it himself. But he sat down in his library, and distracted himself with a book. This did not take long to restore him to his normal state of comfort. 

Childermass brought him a cup of tea, and he sat in the comfortable chair furthest away from the books, and sipped it. 

"Well," said Childermass, "you've earned some attention from me next time you want it." He went to the door and locked it. 

"That's not why I did it."

"I know, sir. If you'd been trying to manipulate me, I wouldn't have offered. But if I'm ever going to have a go at putting you over my knee, or whatever you want... As I told you, it can't be on any of the many occasions when you've been playing-up, irritating me, even if that's just because you want attention, because I'd just be rewarding bad behaviour. But I feel very pleased with you today, sir, because you stood up for me, and yourself, and it can't have been easy."

As soon as Childermass said "putting you over my knee", Norrell felt a quite decided interest. Evidently the...thing was still there, still making its presence felt. The naughty thought of being bare-arsed while Childermass, clothed, used those big, hot hands on him...

"I see you're ready for it, then." Childermass reached out to fondle the front of Norrell's breeches. 

Norrell was quite sure he was blushing. 

"Want me to spank you dressed, until you're begging for my hands on your bare arse?"

Norrell shook his head. 

"Tough!" said Childermass. "I want to make you _embarrassed,_ and I want to make you _ask,_ and I want to make you _beg!"_

Norrell stifled a moan as Childermass eased him down on his lap, fully-clothed. To his surprise it felt even naughtier than starting half-naked--knowing that if he wanted something he'd have to ask Childermass. He wriggled. 

The first blow came down, and it was startlingly, excitingly hard.

"One," said Childermass. "Are you going to count them out?"

Norrell squeaked nervously. "I--is it all right if I don't?"

Childermass sighed. "Remember what I told you? This is for fun--for giving you a good time--and anything that isn't fun is out."

"Thank you--sorry--I don't do well with the anticipation of it. I just want to feel your strength." Anticipation was never one of his talents--his nerves were often bad enough he could make himself ill waiting for something, pleasant or unpleasant.

Childermass gave him another smack, and he moaned happily. "That way?" said Childermass. 

Norrell groaned rapturously, and wriggled in his lap. 

"Good," said Childermass. "And don't you dare spend before I let you!"

Norrell groaned again, less rapturously. "That just makes me _want_ it!"

Childermass leaned down. "I know!" he whispered. 

A few more nice hard smacks. 

Norrell wriggled. "Want your hands on my bare arse--please!"

"That's you asking."

"Please, please, please, I want to so much!" He'd never felt so embarrassed in his life--but he was still begging. 

"And that's you begging." Childermass sounded rather smug. "All right, get up a minute and undo your things. I want you bare-arsed for me."

Norrell got up, clumsy and eager, and prepared himself.

Childermass's lap was a little uncomfortable without his clothes, but the feel of those big, hot hands coming down on him unimpeded was perfect. It made his toes curl and his prick almost lose control entirely. 

Childermass paused. "Let me know when you've had enough, or it gets too much?"

"Could you...give me a bit of time over it? Just stroke me a bit, where I'm sore, between blows."

Tender caresses and a good firm spanking. It felt marvellous and it reminded him how hot and sensitive his bruised skin was getting. Nice hard smacks, and then Childermass would run his hands all over him where he was sore, teasing him.

"Yes, please!" he gasped, as the delicious feelings were close to taking over. 

"Oh, you _are_ having a good time!" said Childermass. 

"Can I frig myself--need a hand to finish myself off--and you just stroke and squeeze my arse as I come off?"

"I bet you'd do it even if I said not to, you greedy little tart!" said Childermass as he lifted him up.

"Don't care!" snarled Norrell. "Oh _please_ let me!"

"All right, give yourself a good rub, I know you're gasping for it."

Norrell frigged himself happily, and used his other hand to tease at his balls gently, because it just felt so good. 

"Need me to remind you there's someone else here?" asked Childermass, rubbing and stroking and occasionally still slapping his warm arse. 

"I'm in...no danger of forgetting!" Norrell stopped a moment to pant.

Childermass got both hands on his bum, and gave it a proper squeeze, digging his hard fingers in thoroughly--it hurt so sweetly he couldn't bear it. 

"Can I--oh, _fuck!"_ Norrell wailed, because he couldn't wait another second, and he was jerking in his own hand, coming messily in Childermass's lap, feeling his balls empty in slow pulses as Childermass rubbed his hot, sore arse. 

"I'm sorry?" he tried, in an altogether sated mumble, once he'd finished. 

"You little liar!" said Childermass. 

"All right--not that sorry! I mean, I'm sorry I didn't attend to your needs, and I'm sorry I got it all over you, but..."

"But you enjoyed yourself?"

He shivered all over. "Yes. You made me feel good."

"Are you too tired to suck me off?"

Norrell yawned. "You deserve it! I'd better try."

"Wrong answer," said Childermass crossly. "You're worn out, you had a good time, and you're not ready to concentrate on me. Come on, give me a kiss and I'll do myself."

So Norrell gave him a kiss, and enjoyed listening to Childermass take care of it. After a while he crawled up a bit and whispered in Childermass's ear about what he'd like to do if he weren't tired, alternating kissings and whisperings and soft nibbling. 

"That's the trick!" gasped Childermass, and finished noisily. He asked for a handkerchief again, and Norrell determined to buy some more--he'd be going through them at quite a rate like this ( _worth it!_ he decided).

"You liked it, then?" Norrell asked after a few minutes, once Childermass had mopped-up. 

"Mm. Got me a bit worked-up, knowing what you like and how desperate you'd been."

"Can I have a cuddle, tonight? I mean, if it wouldn't be unreasonable?" Norrell asked, putting his clothes to rights and rather envying Childermass that his dark, dirty clothes rarely looked particularly different even if someone had come on them. 

"If you're sensible and go to bed early. I'm not creeping in at three in the morning if you get sidetracked by a book."

Norrell was tucked up in bed at eleven o'clock, not even wearing his night-shirt and feeling naked--well, he _was_ naked for once.

Childermass crept in quietly from the shadows, and stripped off his clothes. He really was a fine figure of a man.

"Up for more already?" Childermass asked him. 

"No," he lied. "We've done that already, all I need is a bit of snuggling." He lay on his front and tried not to think about excessive requirements. So Childermass lay almost on top of him. _He_ didn't seem to be at all troubled by how much sex was too much, judging by what was prodding Norrell in the backside. 

Norrell sighed and rolled over, embracing him more thoroughly. He let his hands wander, stroking and playing, and while he was having a good feel of what Childermass had to offer, he humped Childermass's leg, just to keep himself going. 

"Can I suck you?" Norrell suggested. 

"Whatever happened to 'just needing a cuddle'?"

"Can I suck you, _then_ cuddle you?"

They ended up on the bed, just a bit too cold for Norrell, as he bent down and did his best to pleasure Childermass with his mouth. He had to do it a little carefully, for a large man, and it was just-a-bit frustrating because he really wanted to indulge himself as well, but he didn't have a hand free. 

"Once you get more experienced I'm going to shove you down on your knees and fuck your face!" gasped Childermass.

"Mm," said Norrell, rather absently, and continued. He supported the object of his attentions with his hands for long enough to withdraw his mouth and say, "Is this more-or-less adequate?" before returning to his labours. 

Childermass did not reply to this in words. 

Norrell swallowed as much as he could, rather impressed by the copiousness of the result, and settled back on the bed, feeling well-used and rather proud. 

Childermass kissed him. "Thank you," he said. "You did very nicely."

Norrell didn't reply, just settled down to take care of himself. 

Childermass said, "Let me do that."

Norrell had to admit that an extra hand was welcome. Thinking wicked thoughts about how he'd enjoyed a mouthful of cock, he played with his own balls while Childermass took care of him. It didn't take long--Childermass knew what he was doing, and Norrell was ready enough by this time. He sighed happily as he spilled; just doing it for greedy pleasure rather than urgent desire was its own sort of enjoyment. 

Once they were both satisfied, they had that cuddle, and it was very nice. 

"I wasn't asking too much?" asked Norrell guiltily. 

Childermass gave a deep sigh. "Let me worry about that. If I can't perform my duties because you're dragging me into bed every ten minutes, that's too much. If I don't feel like it--for whatever reason, and I don't even have to tell you the reason--you will accept that and not sulk. I'd say you're always free to ask, but I'm always free to refuse. I'll never shame you for asking. Clear enough?"

Norrell kissed him gently on the mouth. "Thank you. Will you sleep with me?"

Childermass did. Norrell didn't even mind being woken up at an early hour because Childermass had to return to his attic room near the servants' quarters, just kissed him, muttered and went back to sleep. 

Childermass kissed him on the cheek, and muttered something about "must keep you satisfied, it does so well for your nerves and your temper."

Norrell might or might not have heard that. He smiled in his sleep.


End file.
